Mist
by BlackFalcon002
Summary: Well, I was curious to see what would happen if the happiest Organization member suddenly tried to kill himself. Yaoi, AxelDemyx, DemyxMarluxia


A.N. A very emo story where the peppiest character in the whole damn game tries to commit suicide over the loss of his loved one. Very touching. Review to tell me that it sucks or whatever. I'm getting numb to the abuse. T-T

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Demyx sat in the middle of his room, breathing in the scent of pure, fresh water. It danced all around him, and he let it comfort him, the soft rustling soothing his hurt. He shuddered, trying to keep back his tears.

He longed, the nonexistent heart in his chest aching with loss. With his lover, all the reassurances that perhaps he was a real being, perhaps he really would be able to find his heart, had disappeared into the eternal darkness, evanesced into nothingness. Demyx tried to bury himself, literally drown himself in his element, to keep from remembering the Nobody.

He failed, however, and tears rolled silently down his cheeks. His breath choked up in his throat, and before he knew it, he was sobbing. The water broke out of its smooth patterns around him, becoming random and agitated. He scrubbed at his eyes, the droplets of salinated sorrow leaving painfully obvious tracks of misery down the black leather.

"Dammit, Marluxia," he whined, voice shuddering and gulping, "Why? Why did you have to die on me? Why?"

He repeated the question, his voice rising and rising, until he screamed, "WHY? WHY DID YOU HAVE TO GO?" His voice, bitter with raging loss, echoed back at him from the confining walls. There was a thump upstairs, and muffled cursing floated down. But it didn't reach Demyx's ears at all. All he heard was the echo of his furious voice, crazy with his inexplicable feelings of sorrow. He wasn't supposed to have feelings. None whatsoever.

But the Graceful Assassin had been a part of him, becoming closer than anyone or anything had ever been before. Marluxia had shared every part of his nonexistence with the musician, and eventually the botanist had become his heart, all of his emotions, all of him that was missing…and now it was gone. Again. His heart had been taken from him a second time, but this was so much worse. After all, he couldn't remember anything from the first time that this had happened. But he could remember the Graceful Assassin. Even now, his voice echoed off the walls, and Demyx whimpered, longing for the touch of his beauteous lover.

But he couldn't come now.

"But what's to stop me from going to him?" came the small voice in his head that had grown ever louder since the death of his heart. "What's to keep me from him?"

Demyx stood, wiping his eyes in determination. He eyed the discarded sitar lying on the floor in apprehension. No. That wouldn't work. It wouldn't work for what he was going to do.

The darkness surrounded him, and in an instant he found himself in still another room, this even more familiar to him than his own. None of the other members had even bothered to come in here since the Graceful Assassin's death, but it wasn't the first time that Demyx had been here since his lover had been taken from him. And not for the first time did his eyes seek out the instrument of destruction that Marluxia had wielded with a fury beyond anything that Demyx had ever been capable of mustering.

But now, he had something far stronger than hate or rage on his side. Love compelled him to pick up the scythe, its pink metal gleaming evilly as the white walls reflected his decision. He went back to his room, cradling Death's weapon in his hands tightly, as though loosening his grip at all would make it disappear. The sharp edge cut into his arm as he gripped it harder, a wave of sadness breaking over him. Blood trickled from the small scratch, just a drop of his body's crimson tears.

"No, no," he muttered. The calm before the storm. "That won't do at all."

There was a faint ripping of leather and skin as the fuchsia blade sliced into his forearm, cutting through his shell of misery into the sweet bliss of pure, physical pain. He moaned, rocking back and forth as the vermillion rivers ran rampant down the black leather garment and his pale skin. The scythe sung in joy as it raked back and forth across the previously unbroken ivory landscape of Demyx's body, arms and side and back and chest. The cloak hung in tattered scraps off of his slight frame, and the now crimson-stained blade dripped red from the tip and sides, and his hands quivered from the effort of holding it up.

A knock startled him out of his reverie. "Wh-what?" he called without thinking.

"Can I come in, Demyx?" came that voice, like silky gravel, the one that always made you cough subconsciously when you heard it, the voice that perfectly matched the redhead's element itself. Axel.

"Why?" Demyx demanded, voice quivering with weakness and sorrow.

"I just want to talk to you."

"There's nothing to talk about!"

"I'll decide that once I get in there, Demyx," Axel insisted stubbornly.

"N-no! Please, just go away!" the Melodious Nocturne retaliated, staring miserably at his blood-streaked arms. All he wanted was to escape the agony of mental pain, the feeling of having half of you torn away with one quick stroke of a Keyblade, the feeling of shame for not having been there for him, for not being able to protect him from a damn kid…All he wanted was to sheathe himself in pain that he could fully cope with, the relief of physical agony, before he sunk into oblivion to join his lover wherever they were supposed to go.

But Axel didn't go away. "You're thinking about Marluxia again, aren't you, Demyx," he stated, not even posing it as a question. There was no need; the answer was as obvious as anything.

"Please…" the musician repeated, whispering. "Please, just go away."

"No."

Demyx thought about saying something else, but decided against it. The Flurry of Dancing Flames never gave up on anything, and insisting that he had to leave would only cause him to either teleport or break down the door.

He raised the bright blade into the air, but his hands wouldn't obey, and the emerald handle slipped through his grasp. The scythe clanged to the floor loudly.

"Demyx?" Axel asked suspiciously, "What was that?"

"Nothing!" Demyx said through gritted teeth, cursing himself silently.

"It sounded like metal."

"That was just me dropping my sitar, okay? That's all that happened!" Demyx insisted, wincing and trying to convince himself that the lie in his voice wasn't that completely obvious. But it was, and Axel took up on it immediately.

"Let me in, Demyx," he ordered. Desperate, Demyx scrabbled for the weapon, managing to get his hand around the handle, but it fell, his grip slippery with frailty and blood. He opted for a different choice, grasping the blade itself. Blood spurted from the cuts on his hands, but he ignored them, lifting the gorgeous blade, covered in his own blood, and bringing it hard down on his wrist. It punctured through all the way, impaling it cruelly. He screamed, blood coughing from his mouth in a fine scarlet spray. He heard, as if from far away, Axel's voice yelling his name, but he sank down into an ebony infinity, blacker than anything he ever could have imagined. It was the darkness of Death's own soul, and he fell into it gratefully, as the pain and agony and misery slipped away into a numb state of unconsciousness.

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Light seeped into his senses, nearly blinding him with its brightness. His eyes flickered, taking what seemed an eternity to focus. Finally, he saw the worried face of the Flurry of Dancing Flames above him, breaking in relief when he saw that the musician was awake. Demyx could have sworn that he saw tears in the pyro's eyes. But that wasn't possible, because Axel wasn't Marluxia. Axel wasn't his lover. Axel wasn't…

"Are you okay?" said the redhead, and Demyx nearly heard real concern in his voice. He tried to answer, tried to ask what he was doing still what most would call alive, but all that came out was a pained moan. He wanted to get himself out of here, get himself away from the anxious, worried pyro, but agony shot through his entire body, and the feeling of having his skin ripped apart inch by inch made him arch his back and gasp in pain.

He felt, through the agonizing shots tearing into his body, gentle hands pushing him firmly back on the white bed, and a worried voice saying urgently, "Jesus, you stupid idiot, are you trying to kill yourself again? You nearly died, don't do it again so soon. Most people at least wait a couple weeks or at least days before trying it again, and you do it in a day?"

Axel just babbled, trying to calm the musician down. Already, red carnations bloomed across the white bandages, and Demyx moaned in pain again. "Wh…what are you…doing?" the Melodious Nocturne asked, his voice choked and hoarse.

"Saving your ass," Axel snapped, starting to lose his temper. Demyx shook his head, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. "N-no…" he stuttered. "I don't want to—"

"What? Live? Don't worry, you're not alive. You have no heart. And yet you're committing suicide? A little contradictory, don't you think?"

"B-but I want to be…with _him…_I need to…go to him…"

Axel sighed, scratching the back of his head. Tears rolled down Demyx's cheeks, leaving a dark stain on the ivory sheets. His hands scrabbled at the sides of the bed, blood seeping through the white bandages on the majority of his body. Axel pushed him back again, but the musician continued to struggle, trying to get up.

Without thinking about it, he placed one hand on each of Demyx's shoulders, pushing him firmly down. Leaning over, he placed his mouth over the musician's. All at once, the Nobody beneath him wasn't moving, just letting the pyro take control. With a gentle question, asked by a curious tongue, Axel gained access to the Melodious Nocturne's mouth, exploring the new territory with a tender adoration that Demyx had felt so many times before. But this was different.

Unlike the Graceful Assassin, Axel was curious, almost interrogative, if you can imagine that, in the way he wandered. He touched places that Marluxia hadn't dared to before, only in the final stages of their loving relationship. And now the Flurry of Dancing Flames was trying that love, trying out to see exactly what would develop.

It was all over in an eternity and a moment. Axel pulled back slowly, reluctantly, leaving Demyx silent and longing, remembering the Assassin, his beautiful Marluxia, but wanting more of Axel, the fiery, initiative pyro that made him shiver. And the whole while, translucent tears rolled down his cheeks. Unsuredness battered all of his senses and his nonexistent feelings, sending his mind into a tailspin and a grinding halt, only brought back from it as the Flurry of Dancing Flames spoke softly.

"Just don't kill yourself. For his sake and mine, and yours."

"B-but…I…" Demyx stuttered, completely unsure of himself. Axel leaned forward and lightly licked the tip of his nose.

"You really think that Marluxia will be happy if you go and commit suicide? He wants you to be happy…and no one knows what happens when we die. You could be reborn with a heart, or you could be thrown into a cesspool of eternal and agonizingly excruciating pain. You'll just be hurting all of us by doing anything. Please. Listen to me."

"I want him," Demyx sobbed, breaking out in tears and turning his head away in shame. "I want him back. I want to see him again."

"Shh…" Axel murmured, soothing back the musician's blonde hair with one gloved hand. He stroked it, almost able to feel its silkiness under the leather. The Melodious Nocturne eventually cried himself to sleep under the pyro's soft touch, his breathing becoming long and regular. Not having moved once, Axel stared at him sorrowfully, longing for the love that Demyx felt towards the botanist to be directed at him. The musician perhaps couldn't see that now…but Axel wouldn't give up. Not yet. Eventually, the musician would see.

His emerald eyes softened as he stared down at the blonde, his perfect, mutilated, gorgeous body, his way of never being able to understand unless it was spelled out for him, the endearingly charming way that he was naïve and gullible and immature…it all attracted Axel in a curious way.

"You know…" he whispered to the peacefully sleeping Demyx, "If I had a heart, I would give it all up to you. You know so much more than I do…and you deserve it more by far."

A sudden wave of sadness swept over him, and he stared at the small space between his glove and the end of the cloak's sleeve. In the pale skin, ivory slashed littered the smooth surface, long and criss-crossing and jagged. He sighed, remembering what had caused his own pain to escalate. Marluxia had indeed been beautiful…he could still feel the soft lips pressed against his own, and hear the Nobody's soft, velvety voice whispering his name making him promise.

'_Please…' came the sad voice as more and more of him was faded, disintegrating into fine black grains that dispersed rapidly against the white walls of Castle Oblivion. 'Please, Axel…take care of him. I…don't know what he'll do…now that I won't be there for him. Please…do something. Demyx needs you…' and with that, the last of the Graceful Assassin had flowed away into nothingness, leaving Axel with an echo and a promise. _His own voice came back as he murmured to the empty room, _'I…I promise.'_

He stared again at the blonde. He had promised. And he would keep that promise. And one day he would tell the hapless musician, lying on his side and breathing deeply as of currently, what he was doing. But not yet.

"Only you, Demyx…" he chuckled. "Only you tried to commit suicide. I was too much of a coward. But you, a rank below me, are shoving entire blades through your arm. Desperation or stupidity, I don't know or care. All I know is…you're mine. And no one will take you from me like they took _him _from us. I promise you, too."

"Really?" came a slightly detached-sounding voice below him. Axel jumped. "You were awake? The whole time?"

"You talk too much."

Axel sighed, lying down next to the blonde and pushing his face into Demyx's back. "Yes," he mumbled, voice slightly muffled, "I promise."

Demyx snuggled down deeper into the white bed, silent tears still rolling, although he could have sworn that he had cried everything in him out already.

"Good," he whispered, his eyes fluttering shut, and they drifted off, curled up next to each other, both mourning for one gone, and relieved for having found another.

How little the oblivious know, and how happy they can be for it.

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A.N. Wow, that came out a lot worse than I thought it would. Still, I'd like your thoughts on it, flames welcome because, honestly, that _sucked. _Truly, my friends, this is a sad day for out, a-hem, beloved Chris. I love you all, and I bid thee adieu. Farewell, dear compatriots, I shall leave you now. Until next time, my chicken nuggets and pork chops!


End file.
